


age of reason

by forlornithologist



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Implied Violence, M/M, Pre-Slash, dialogue-heavy, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 05:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11640324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forlornithologist/pseuds/forlornithologist
Summary: Rhaast and Aatrox flirt the best that homicidal demons can.





	age of reason

**Author's Note:**

> Kayn: Friend of yours?  
> Rhaast: Aatrox. We have...history.
> 
> EDIT june 2018: recently aatrox got reworked (yay!!!) and with some new lore/interactions the relationship between aatrox and rhaast has become a bit different. in this new canon im unsure if they are related or see themselves as siblings. that being said, this sh!t was written under the assumption that they are not related in any form, except for being from the same species. thx

To the Darkin age was much less simple; a Runeterran year was like an intake of breath to them, and they marked the passage of time only with the diamond gleam of a newly-forged star appearing in the sky. Rather their concept of age was tied inherently to rank, and those in command were older, even if they were wrought after those Darkin of lesser authority. Thus Aatrox led, being older than Rhaast, who had been wrought before him; it was an illogical point of envy Rhaast held close to his heart. 

And how could Aatrox not lead? The sword was a miracle of artistry, the pride of the armory. The dark influence he exerted over Runeterrans was a thing of beauty, bloodthirst washing over them like the rolling white mists of the Blessed Isles. Only fitting, then, that the sword which drank deep of wrath be a Blade of the Darkin.

And Rhaast wasn’t jealous. Like, at all.

He just had some questions.

“What are your wings for?” he said.

“I beg your pardon?” said Aatrox.

“Your, your wings,” said Rhaast, rumbling voice on the cusp of laughter, “You don’t fly with them. They just hang there.”

Aatrox seemed perplexed. “They’re part of me.”

“No one’s questioning that,” said Rhaast.

“So what is the question?”

“Never mind.”

“Why don’t you have lips?” said Aatrox.

“What?” said Rhaast.

“Why d--”

“Fuck yourself.”

Aatrox had a strange, pleased aura, but Rhaast couldn’t tell why. Ah--the bastard was _smirking_. With his bastard _lips_.

“Stop that,” Rhaast said.  


“Stop what.”

“Emoting. That’s all that fleshy face is good for, looking pretty and emoting.” _Looking pretty_ , why did he say that.

“Looking pretty?” said Aatrox.

“Pretty stupid,” said Rhaast.

Aatrox pulled his sword out of the last dead body, holding it reverently as the scarlet bloom faded from its teeth. “The wings are banners of war,” he said.

Rhaast kept quiet, his own scythe still dripping from the slaughter.

“Just as the standards color the frontlines, my wings guide the worthy into the fray,” Aatrox went on.

“Okay,” said Rhaast.

Aatrox turned then, the sunset framing his horns like fire, and Rhaast had the strange thought that he was beautiful. It was the smile, probably, that chimeric curve of lips that parted to display fangs.

“We did good work today,” said Aatrox, “The archon will be pleased.”

Rhaast looked away, and looking away was like rising from sleep: by virtue of need rather than want. He turned his attention to the crowd of warriors picking over the wounded, they howled with despair and delight; they were the Darkin’s favored, and as such were marshalled by the Blade and his chosen.

“They are certainly pleased,” he said, “Pathetic things.”

“Don’t underestimate them,” said Aatrox, delicately stepping over a corpse. “What they lack in raw strength or talent they make up for in mettle.”

Rhaast scoffed, a puff of steam from the glowing chasm of his mouth, and made the mistake of looking back. Aatrox was closer now, and smiling, and still beautiful, and Rhaast wanted something with such tenderness that the feeling itself became violence in him.

“That said, I can be convinced to appreciate their tradition of _emoting_ ,” said Rhaast, “but I would need a pair of lips.”

“Will mine do?” said Aatrox.

**Author's Note:**

> aatrox look like starscream and he wing look like salami


End file.
